Fifth Day

19th day of the 11th moon, 1105 HC

Every time Damion thinks he's awake, he falls right back to sleep. He thinks, this is it, this is when I get out of bed, only to discover he had fallen asleep yet again. His body is just aching and begging for sleep, and more sleep, and even more sleep. His stomach aches in hunger. His bladder pleads for relief. But he just falls right back to sleep again.

He thinks he hears the door open and close a couple times, and knocking on the door a few times, too. He tries to rouse himself so he can see what's going on, but he just can't. He's simply too damn tired.

Finally one eye pops open, and then the other. They stay open this time. He eyes the amount of light streaming in through the windows. It must be late. How late has it gotten? His bladder rouses him to sit up and throw his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Good morning, Damion!" says a familiar voice cheerily.

Damion scrambles back into the bed under the covers. He's wearing a fucking diaper he'd prefer absolutely no one sees. He looks towards the sound of the voice and sees that beautiful Sylvaran man sitting in a chair by the fire with a book in his lap. Viri.

"You're... you're here. You actually... you actually came," Damion stammers.

Viri smiles radiantly, "I promised you I would come for breakfast. Although, I think we underestimated just how tired you would be! It's already after lunch."

Damion's eyes grow wide, "Have you been waiting all this time?"

"I took a gamble," Viri explains, "I decided to stay and wait instead of leaving because you haven't wanted to be alone. I guessed you would prefer I be here when you woke up, than to wait until I learned you woke up and made my way back here."

Damion blushes. He does really appreciate not starting his day off alone. "Thank you, Viri," he says bashfully, "You guessed correctly." Viri provides another of those radiant smiles. Damion clears his throat, "But, um, uh, could you give me a hand with something?"

"Absolutely!" Viri exclaims with cheer.

"Could you grab a robe from the bathing chamber for me? I'm uhh..." Damion rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

"Oh yes!" Viri pops out of his chair and in just a few long strides he disappears into the bathing chamber. He pops back out carrying a robe made of towel-like material and hands it to Damion.

Viri rounds the bed and heads back to the chairs while speaking, "I'll turn the chair to give you some privacy. You can come join me when you're ready." Viri turns the chair and sits with one ankle over the other knee, and gets lost in his book once again.

Damion exhales slowly. He carefully puts the robe on while keeping an eye on Viri making sure he doesn't see the monstrosity of a diaper he's wearing, then carefully makes his way into the bathing chamber, grabbing the grey and white robe Selune had given him from off the floor as he passes by.

He strips, tosses the used diaper on the floor, and uses the toilet. After, he takes a small cloth, cleans his back side, then washes last night's diaper cloth in the sink and hangs it to dry. He takes a fresh cloth and wraps it around himself to fashion the next diaper for him to wear. He sighs looking at himself in the mirror. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic.

He throws on the grey and white robe he had gotten at the summit and looks in the mirror. He had hoped the robe would hide the diaper, and it does a better job than pants would, but as he moves it's clear something thick is surrounding his crotch area.

He scrubs his face with his hands in frustration. I'm probably going to have to tell Viri what's going on. I'll need his help to either get back my anal plug from the police, or somehow get a new one. I can't just keep wearing a diaper. He groans from a sense of defeat. I'm still being beaten down. The humiliation won't stop.

Now that he's freshened up and clothed, he girds himself to face Viri. He takes a deep breath, opens the door and steps into the main room.

Damion had planned to swagger into the room like the man he used to be — bright, loud, invincible — slip into the chair across from Viri and greet him with one of his famous smiles. Instead he steps into the room and freezes. The space between him and Viri elongates before his eyes and suddenly seems like an insurmountable distance.

Damion sees the back of Viri's head as he sits in the comfortable chair by the brazier. His green wings gently sway with each breath while his fingers whisper a page turned in the book he's reading. This sight of Viri sitting there alive and unguarded hits Damion harder than he'd have ever expected. Viri looks so normal. And Damion as his broken, humiliated, disgusting self is going to come crashing into that normalcy with his fucked up life.

Damion walks cautiously across the room. He hates how his body betrays him: the tremble he can't stop, the cold sweat slicked down his back, the vicious clench of his stomach. He feels wrong, like a thing to be left out in the cold, not a thing pretending he is still a person.

He doesn't know how this is going to start. He doesn't know what will happen. He doesn't know how Viri is going to react to his fucked up body and his fucked up history. Will he look at me like Falloway did, like I'm already dead, and too pathetic to mourn?

Damion slows the closer he approaches the chairs by the brazier. He's moving at a snail's pace, barely breathing. His hand twitches uselessly at his side, itching to cover himself, hide himself, hide his damage.

Then Viri turns a page in his book and says without looking up, so casually, so easily, like it means nothing at all, "I brought some books. They're on the table. Perhaps you could pick one and sit and read with me."

It took a beat for Damion to understand the words. Another for them to register as real. Relief didn't just wash over him, it broke him, so sudden and violent he almost wept from the shock of it. He is still someone. Still wanted. For now.

"Okay," Damion says a bit hoarsely. He clears his throat then says more clearly, "I'd like that."

He changes direction and heads over to the table where there is a small pile of books. A couple about the Sanctums of Harmura, and the rest are fiction. He sees one of the Harmura books could be perfect for what he needs to learn from and better understand which Sanctum is best for him, but then puts it aside. Damion needs to rest his body and soul. He really needs some escapism right now.

He flips through the fiction books, and one is the very definition of escapism. It is various short stories about leaving the land, flying up up up into the sky and out to the stars and finding new lands out in the vast beyond. With a small smile, he takes that book with him.

Damion slides in carefully into the comfy sitting chair next to Viri, who had just given him a small warm smile then returned to his own book. Damion gets comfortable then flips open the book and starts to read.

"You picked my favorite book," Viri says softly without looking away from what he's reading.

"I did?"

"You clearly have good taste," Viri looks up and winks at him then returns his gaze to his book. Damion chuckles.

Damion gets lost in the stories. They tell about a war torn land and a people traveling to an entirely other land deep in space to escape. This other land originally had its own native beings on it, but they all disappeared. Died of disease brought by the war torn peoples.

Damion's stomach growls. Viri turns a page in his book then says without looking up, "Would you like me to have the kitchen fetch us something to eat? It's after lunch, but a few hours yet until dinner."

"I don't want to be a bother. I can wait until dinner," Damion objects.

"Nonsense," Viri puts down his book and stretches, "I could use a brisk walk," he smiles warmly at Damion, "Let me take care of you, Damion."

Damion flashes back to a multitude of times Mulsae said he wanted to care for Damion. He freezes. He doesn't know what to do with that. The concept swirls a mixture of the warmth of being held and the terror of being trapped.

"Hey," Viri says softly, "Where did you just go?"

Damion crashes back into himself with a flinch and blinks up at Viri. His mouth opens and shuts but no words come out.

"Did I say something that reminded you of Mulsae?" Viri says softly. Gently.

Damion nods and swallows, "He..." He picks at the fabric of his robe. "He always used to say he wanted to take care of me. That he'd always be there, for the rest of our lives." He falls quiet, then adds, "Yesterday, he came to the hospital and said he wanted to take me away. He told me to reach out if I ever needed anything. So he could take care of me."

Viri nods solemnly, "I'm sorry I reminded you of that."

"I want to be cared for, though," Damion sighs, then continues in a whisper, "I just don't want to be trapped."

"You'll always have choice with me, Damion," Viri looks into his eyes intensely, "Always." Viri's expression then melts and turns warm, "And if you choose to allow it, I'd like to help you take control of your life," Viri's warmth turns into a smirk, "And sometimes that will involve helping with simple tasks, like making sure you eat while you're on bed rest so you can recover and be in a better position to take care of yourself soon."

Damion chuckles quietly, "Okay, thank you. I'd appreciate a snack before dinner. Thank you."

Viri stands and puts his book on the chair before stretching left and right. He gives Damion a radiant smile with a small bounce to his feet then he takes a few long strides and is out the door.

Damion can't help but notice the name of Viri's book is 'Wings of Desire'. Wings, huh? I'd like to get my hands on his wings--- Stop! No! Don't think of Viri like that! He buries his face into his book from embarrassment.

He slowly lowers the book from his face until he can see over the top edge, eyeing that book on Viri's chair. Well now I just have to know what this book is about... Damion slinks over to the other chair and reads the back of the book.

When a grounded Windborne 
warrior is assigned to protect
a Windborne ambassador from an
enemy territory, forbidden
attraction flares. But desire
is dangerous when loyalty is
on the line — and even
deadlier when it involves the
delicate art of wingplay,
trust, and surrender.

Damion chuckles to himself. Sounds fun. He settles back into his chair and resumes reading his book about traveling to lands far off in the sky.

Damion gets to a point in a story where someone is being sealed into a wall brick by brick when the door opens and Viri comes strolling in with a triumphant look on his face while carrying a tray. Damion cannot help but to grin ear to ear at the sight of him. Viri meets Damion's wide grin with his own and sets the tray down on the table. Damion joins him and they get comfortable.

He brought a charcuterie spread. It is just perfect to snack on to stave off hunger until dinner. They nibble on the food, hum in satisfaction at the flavorful cheeses, and smile at each other.

Damion picks up a small, jiggling cube from the tray. It's translucent, pale violet, and flecked with what looks suspiciously like gold leaf. He holds it between two fingers and squints at it like it might be alive.

"This one is clearly cursed," he says flatly.

Viri glances over, "That's the honey-lavender gelée."

Damion keeps staring at it, "So you do know its true name," he hums as he ponders then cocks his head, "Tell me, was it harvested under moonlight from the shriveled tears of a disappointed widow?"

Viri raises a brow, "Don't be absurd. That is a sacred delicacy. It only forms naturally in the whispering groves of northern Palathen. The sap is stirred by harp-playing spirits for three nights, then set in crystal dishes blessed by sun druids."

Damion nods solemnly, "And if a shadow touches it before it's cooled, it turns to ash and curses your descendants."

"Only for three generations," Viri says with a shrug.

Damion's lips twitch, "You're making this up."

Viri gestures to the cube, "Now it's lore. And we're honor-bound to never eat this again, lest we incur the wrath of the Gelée Druids."

Damion starts to snort-laugh, but then it builds, "The Gelée Druids. I can't ---"

"And their leader is known only as the Jellyfather," Viri adds without blinking.

Damion wheezes, "Stop. Stop. I'm going to choke."

"His robes are translucent, like the cubes," Viri says, still deadpan, "You can only hear him speak if you press your ear to a sugar rose."

Damion looses it. He falls back in his chair, nearly sends a piece of dried apricot flying, and howls with laughter. Viri finally cracks and laughs too, sharp and sudden at first, then bright and breathless. They've both become completely undone.

Damion presses the heel of his palm to his eyes, still shaking. "The Jellyfather," he gasps, "You're a menace."

Viri just nods between breaths, "And you're banned from sacred kitchens across the continent."

They both tip sideways in their chairs, food forgotten, completely undone by a cursed cube and its jelly cult.

As the laughter fades, Damion wipes his eyes and catches the lingering smile still tugging at Viri's mouth, which makes him smile anew. He looks down at the tray between them, at the mostly finished food, and the mirth fades. He feels something tighten in his chest instead. He leans back in his chair and exhales slowly. The air smells like fruit and cheese and woodsmoke. He just laughed, really laughed, and for a minute, the war in his body was quiet.

This is what normal feels like, he thinks, I had forgotten. But I'm not normal. Not really. Not any more. I'm still wearing this damn diaper. I'm still stretched out. I still have a cock cage.

And fuuuuuck. We're going clothes shopping in two days. His eyes close and his brow furrows. How can I go clothes shopping in a fucking diaper? I don't even want to wear anything other than this loose robe at the moment. I need clothes. I can't get clothes until I can get an anal plug. I can't get an anal plug in any reasonable timeframe without help.

I should ask Viri. He pinches his nose between his eyes. But I just don't want Viri to find out and look at me like I'm ruined. Maybe I should message Mulsae. He's the one who seemed to have a never ending supply of anal plugs. He'd help, I'm sure of it.

Damion's hand twitches where it rests on the table. Then there is a warm hand resting on his arm. He opens his eyes and sees Viri looking back. His face is open. He's not asking for anything. He's just here and letting him know he's here through touch.

Damion gently places his other hand on top of Viri's and pauses his gaze on their hands. Viri slowly caresses Damion's arm with his thumb.

I shouldn't reach out to Mulsae for help. Viri's entire job is to help me, specifically to help me get away from being dependent on Mulsae. He sighs and his head droops a little and his shoulders fall. I should give Viri a chance, no matter how heart breaking it turns out to be.

Damion lifts his head and looks into Viri's eyes. He still has an open expression that is demanding nothing. Damion's throat bobs as he swallows, he opens his mouth to speak and no words come out. He swallows again and bites his lip as he scrunches up his face and screws his eyes shut. He takes his top hand back and uses it to rub at his brow.

He doesn't look back up. He keeps his eyes tightly shut and the pained expression on his face as he opens his mouth to try once again. "There's a couple fucked up things I should tell you about. And one of them I need help with."

Viri squeezes his arm. Damion peeks out from under his hand to see that Viri's face is silently saying he's listening. He puts his hand down on his knee and fidgets with the fabric of his robe. He sighs deeply and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, then lowers it back down to look at the fabric of the robe covering his knees.

"Mulsae... altered... my dick and ass," he chances a brief glance at Viri who hasn't changed his expression, "He trapped me in a cock cage that has been enchanted to never be opened. I'm cursed, in a sense," he purses his lips and tugs on his robe's fabric, "Selune said she'd ask someone to try to break the spell. I'm expecting a visit from someone at some point," he shrugs nonchalantly, "So, now you know why if someone suddenly shows up."

He looks at Viri out of the corner of his eyes. He still wears the expression that indicates he's listening. He's not horrified. He's not coddling. He's just listening.

Damion returns his gaze back to his knees, "Mulsae also... stretched... my ass," he flicks a quick glance at Viri who's not yet horrified, "I'm so stretched out that I require an anal plug in order to... prevent... leaking."

Damion takes back his arm from Viri's hand and completely resituates himself in his chair, using the movement to roll his neck and shoulders as he does so. He looks back at his knees and licks his lips, "I was arrested and they did a thorough inspection of me. They discovered the anal plug and... confiscated it." He continues more quickly, "Then I was hospitalized, and promptly escorted back here, where I met you, and I've never had an opportunity to get the plug back from them."

He glances back to Viri. He's still just open to listening, still not yet horrified. "I asked the hospital for help, and all they could offer me were... diapers. I'm... wearing a diaper." Damion glances back again. No sign of disgust nor amusement. Damion rolls his neck again. "I can't go clothes shopping while wearing a diaper. I need an anal plug."

He finally looks over at Viri and holds his gaze, "I need your help to either get mine back from the police, or acquire a new one."

Viri gives space for Damion to continue talking. Once it's clear he is done talking, Viri says calmly, kindly, "It's no problem for me to help you. We can start with getting your things back from the police. Did they confiscate anything else?"

Damion relaxes and an almost imperceptible smile crosses his lips. Just relief that Viri's reaction isn't what he had feared. The space Viri has created is nice. Comfortable.

Damion nods, "Yeah, my coin purse."

Viri leans back, "Well, confiscated money is taken very seriously, so that increases the likelihood that all of your possessions are intact and retrievable."

A pained hopeful expression grows on Damion's face, "Really? So I could get it back?"

Viri nods and smiles assuredly, "There is a good chance we can get it back."

Damion blows out a long exhale and sinks down into his chair. So much tension he didn't even know he was holding was just released so quickly that he feels like he's turned to... into... a honey-lavender gelée. He can't help but snicker at the memory.

Viri cocks his head at the strange addition of laughter to this serious moment. Damion smirks, "The Jellyfather." Viri's entire face scrunches up with his gigantic smile. Damion slides further down into his chair, "Maybe I'm the Jellyfather now. At the very least, I've turned into gelée." Viri barks a laugh.

Damion lets himself melt every which way into the chair and blows out a long exhale, "Gods, that was so tightly bottled up within me, that now that it's out, I seriously feel all gooey like that gelée cube." He turns his head and looks up at Viri, "You'll need to set me out in crystal dishes blessed by sun druids."

Viri cannot hold in his laugh, which just makes Damion start to laugh. They settle and Damion sits up. They look at each other, and simultaneously burst into another round of laughter.

Damion holds his stomach, "Oh gods, oh gods, I'm laughing so much my stomach hurts."

Viri massages his face, "My face hurts!"

They look at each other and fall into another round of uncontrolled laughter.

Their laughter thankfully dies down, given how painful the excessive laughter has become, but then there is a knock on the door. They look at each other again and bark out more laughter. Once Damion is able to walk steadily through his giggling, he answers the door.

A Sylvaran woman is on the other side of the door with her large green wings behind her and a Heaven-aligned talisman necklace resting on her collarbones indicating her magical empowerment. She smiles with glint of amusement in her eyes and chuckles softly before holding out her hand for Damion to shake, "Hi there! I'm Dale. I was sent by Master Selune to help with your curse." Damion grins widely and gestures for her to come in.

"First things first: my curiosity is killing me," she puts her hands on her hips in mock authority, "What has got you two so tied up in knots?"

Viri and Damion look at each other and laugh again. Gods, we can't even look at each other without laughing now.

Damion swipes a gelée cube from the charcuterie spread, "This! It's this thing's fault!"

"A honey-lavender gelée has got you laughing to hysterics?" Mirth twinkles in Dale's eyes.

"I was merely telling him how it was made," Viri waves a hand flippantly and rolls his eyes, "He thought it was hilarious."

Damion hums suspiciously, "It's apparently a sacred delicacy that comes from the groves of---"

"---northern Palathen. That's right," Viri nods solemnly, "and it requires harp-playing spirits."

"And crystals blessed by sun druids," continues Damion.

"And then there is the Jellyfather," Viri deadpans and looks to Dale, "But you know all this already, don't you?"

Dale is failing to suppress a smile as she nods, clearly amused, "Oh but of course, everyone knows the Jellyfather."

They all look at each other, each one trying to maintain their composure and so clearly failing. They burst into stitches. Damion can't handle it any more, he slides to the floor holding his stomach unable to stop laughing. This, of course, makes Viri and Dale laugh more, which in turn causes more laughter-induced stomach pain in Damion.

"Puhleeease we need to stop," Damion gasps, "I'm dying!"

Viri rubs at his face, "My face feels like it's going to fall off."

"Well, how's this for a mood killer," Dale chuckles, "Let's try to get that cage off of you, Damion."

Damion looks up to Dale from the floor, "You certainly do know how to kill the mood."

Dale claps her hands and cocks her head to the side, "As fun as it is to discuss the Jellyfather, this visit is about that cursed cage. Shall we?"

Still from the floor, "We shall, we shall." He rolls over then clambers onto his feet. "I just need to freshen up a moment, I'll be right back."

Damion goes into the bathing chamber and leans against the door as soon as he closes it. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. He then pushes off the door and throws his robe off.

He removes and tosses the diaper into the sink. Then washes all around his crotch and between his ass cheeks. He hopes he smells more like soap and less like body odor. And most certainly hopes he doesn't smell like leaky ass.

He puts his robe back on and approaches the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging the door open. I can get through this.

Dale gestures towards the bed, "May you lay down?" Dale gestures. Damion nods curtly and lays across the bed. "The cloth interferes with my ability to see the magic, so I'm going to partially unfasten your robe, okay?" Damion nods. Dale gently, clinically opens the bottom of the robe up to Damion's naval. Despite all that laughter earlier, Dale has the demeanor of an impartial professional. Damion breathes a sigh of relief.

"This has a Mountain enchantment on it," she peers around it curiously, "It is embedded into the metal itself, likely while it was being forged."

Damion just looks up at the ceiling while Dale works. Her hands hover, palms just above the cage, feeling for something invisible. He hears the faintest breath from her nose steady and measured. A subtle sensation creeps in like cool tendrils pressing against him from different angles, searching. They're not physical, but his body reacts all the same, a faint tightening in his stomach.

After a while, Dale exhales, takes a step back and drags a chair closer. "This will take precision," she says quietly, more to herself than to him. She sits, leaning forward with elbows braced on her knees and hands once again over the cage.

Damion is a bit more curious as to how this enchantment breaking process works. He tilts his head slightly to watch Dale. Her hands hover with her fingers twitching slightly. Her brows are drawn tight, eyes locked on the metal as though she's tracing a map she's memorized and is now trying to solve.

One hand remains steady in place, while the other makes small, deliberate rotations around the cage. The sensation has changed. Those probing tendrils curl in and out, withdrawing and returning. It's strangely methodical. He realizes she is testing spots, moving in tiny increments.

A faint pressure runs along the base of the cage. It's not painful, but it is insistent and Damion grimaces. "Sorry," Dale murmurs without looking up, "That was me trying a deeper push."

She keeps working for a while longer, cycling between probing and pausing. The air around her fingertips carries a faint resin-like scent. Eventually, Dale sits up straight and raises her arms to stretch and crack her back. She rolls her neck and shoulders.

"This one is difficult," she jerks her head towards the charcuterie spread, "Mind if I snack while I think?"

Damion sits up and folds his robe over himself for privacy, "Yes, please, go ahead."

Dale gets up and then sits in the chair closest to the charcuterie spread with a heavy sigh. She picks up a cube of cheese and nibbles on it thoughtfully.

Damion can see that Viri had moved to the chair by the brazier, the one that is positioned to prevent Viri from easily seeing the rest of the room. He's reading his book, not listening in. He's making himself available while still providing privacy. That's sweet of him.

"I'll try again," Dale says in a tone laced with disappointment, "But it looks like this enchantment will require someone with more experience than I have," she leans back and lets out a long breath, "Likely a Sylvaran who has a more powerful Heaven talisman, too." She looks thoughtfully at the ceiling while she chews. "Maybe a Heaven Sky-touched to crack it while working in tandem with a Sylvaran to wedge it open..." she drifts off lost in thought.

Damion nods solemnly. "I see..." he says after a moment of silence. He doesn't actually understand.

Dale shifts her gaze to Damion, "Mountain magic is about permanence," she pops a slice of salami into her mouth. "The magic itself is as smooth as the metal it's been forged into. There's just nothing here for me to grasp onto. No seams to push into."

Damion looks down at his groin and grimaces, then looks up at Dale to meekly ask, "If there's nothing to grasp onto... then what?"

"We'll need a Heaven descended Sky-Touched to force a seam to split," she points with a wedge of cheese, "Everything has seams. Everything is composed of multiple components." She sits back and puts an ankle on the opposite knee then pops the cheese in her mouth and chews. "We'll need to find someone who can sense the components of this enchantment and force them apart. Then a Sylvaran can push their Wood magic through to burrow in and break the entire enchantment matrix to pieces."

Damion swallows heavily. "How could I find someone like that to help me?"

Dale softens and smiles warmly, "Don't fret, Damion. Master Selune is determined to help you. I'll write up my findings and recommendations, and Selune will arrange for someone to come help you again." Damion nods slowly.

She picks up a honey-lavender gelée cube, and grins with a wink before popping it into her mouth. Damion smiles, relaxing some tension he hadn't realized he was holding onto.

She stands up, "Let me try breaking this enchantment one more time, okay?" Damion nods and scoots down to lay on the bed once again. She opens the bottom half of Damion's robe and sets to working on the enchantment once again. She hovers her hands above Damion and that same faint, resin-sweet scent coils in the air, and the invisible press against his skin returns, firmer this time.

His fingers curl into the blanket as he tries not to hope. Dale won't be able to take the cage off. I'm going to have to wait for someone else, I'm sure of it. He braces himself for the bad news.

After a bit longer, Dale sighs and slowly closes the robe as she speaks, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to remove the cock cage. The enchantment is just beyond my ability."

She finishes fastening the robe closed, sits back in her chair and faces Damion, "I'm going to write up my findings and give it to Master Selune. She'll then arrange for the next enchantment breaker. I'm going to recommend a Sky-Touched and Sylvaran team to work on this."

Damion nods as he scooches up into a sitting position on the bed, "Thanks for trying. I appreciate that you've given me this time."

"Of course, Damion," Dale smiles warmly as she stands. Damion swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up as well.

She heads to the door in long strides and Damion follows to see her out. "I'm glad you're making him laugh, Viri!" she calls out. Viri puts down his book and gives a radiant smile. She clasps Damion's shoulder, "You'll hear about next steps soon."

Damion nods as he opens the door, "Thanks again." With that Dale strides out the door and he slowly closes it behind her.

Viri puts his book on the floor and turns in his chair to face Damion, "I take it that it wasn't successful."

"Nope!" Damion leans his back on the door and sighs, "Looks like a Heaven Sky-Touched and Sylvaran are needed to break it together." He shrugs, "I suppose I am even lucky that Selune is willing to keep searching for people to help me," he waves his hands about, "It's not like she has the time or inclination to wander around all of Harmura and help with everyone's problems!"

Viri nods, "You've certainly gotten yourself in with some very powerful people," he ponders that thought a moment, "The most powerful people."

Damion chuckles and pushes himself off the door and plops himself in the sitting chair opposite to Viri. "My life has been ridiculous these past few years," he huffs a laugh, "Absurd doesn't even cover it."

Damion looks into the fire and exhales. Without speaking, Viri rises from his seat and walks to the table. He opens one of the small boxes he brought that morning and begins laying out cards with deliberate ease. Damion watches, head tilted.

"Something to do with our hands," Viri offers, without looking back, "I think this game might be just what we need right now."

Damion considers. The fire's warmth is nice. The chair is soft. But the idea of moving, doing something, feels oddly welcome after so much stillness. He rises and joins Viri at the desk. The chair creaks as he sinks into it, and Viri deals the cards into a neat grid between them.

"What are we playing?"

"There's not really a name," Viri replies, sorting the deck, "It's more like... organizing chaos."

Damion snorts, "So, healing, then."

Viri smiles faintly, "You don't win against each other. Just try to end up better off than you started."

Damion leans forward, eyeing the spread. The cards display a single number, with some cards tucked beneath others, some revealed. It's not clear what they mean, but it doesn't matter. The moves are simple, the rhythm steady. A game that doesn't need much thinking out loud. Just touch, attention, the occasional pause. The fire crackles behind them.

After a few quiet rounds learning the game, Viri sets down a card and speaks up, voice soft. "When you're all healed up and you could go anywhere, even for just a visit, where would you want to go?"

Damion's fingers hover over his deck, "I don't know," he admits with a shrug, "I don't know what's out there."

Viri watches him for a beat, then asks gently, "Alright, then... what would your dream place feel like?"

Damion's brow furrows slightly. He exhales, leans back in his chair, and thinks, "Somewhere with sky. Wind. Where you could stretch your wings and not see a roof or a wall or even a tree. Just... space. Quiet and open."

Viri smiles like he's been waiting for that answer. "There's a ridge near the eastern sea in Thunder Sanctum," he says, his voice warming, "Two cliffs curve into each other like cupped hands, and the wind tunnels between them. Not harshly, just a steady wind. If you leap at the right moment, it catches you. Lifts you. You don't even need to flap, just open your wings and let it carry you."

Damion's gaze shifts to him, quiet. Focused. Viri continues, encouraged. "First time I tried it, I misjudged the wind and landed face-first in a thornbush. Second time I didn't touch the ground for what felt like hours. Just gliding in silence. Felt like flying was invented just for that place."

Damion's lips twitch, "Sounds like a place that should charge admission."

"Oh, it does," Viri says, mock-serious, "You pay in scratches and pride."

Damion chuckles under his breath, "Worth it?"

"Every time." Viri leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his tone softening, "The grass up there is silver. It's not from frost, it's just naturally silver. It shimmers in the wind like water, and the whole ridge looks like it's rippling. There's nothing around for miles but open sky and sea air, so when the sun starts to set, the whole place lights up." Damion is still. His hand has paused over the cards, and he's not pretending to play anymore. Just listening.

"At dusk, the cliffs go gold first," Viri says, "Then the sky starts folding in with violet, indigo, blue so deep it looks like ink poured into glass. The stars come out fast, like they've been waiting. They're so close it feels like if you jumped high enough, you'd knock into one."

Damion exhales slowly, "That sounds fake."

Viri smiles without looking at him, "Then you'd love it."

Damion leans back in his chair, gaze unfocused now, like he's seeing something far away, "I think I already do."

They don't speak for a little while. The cards shift gently between them, the rhythm slow and unrushed, more motion than strategy. The fire crackles softly. The game, the room, the whole world has gone quiet.

Damion turns over a card, barely glancing at it. I never thought about going somewhere else before. Not really. Not more than flying patrol routes or running messages across Hearthholds. I've spent my whole life fighting to survive in one place, never wondering what might be beyond it. Travel was something just the Sky-Touched or Flamekeepers did. Not an Emberan bastard like me.

He draws another card, stacks it neatly. But what if I did travel? What if there were places where the sky looked like Viri described? Where wind could lift you instead of tear at you, and stars showed up early just to make you look? What if the world wasn't just full of threats and obligations, but also filled with beauty? His chest tightens with something quiet. Hope, maybe. Something lighter than he's used to carrying.

There's a soft clink of metal and ceramic while feet are heard ascending the staircase outside the door. A gentle tap-tap of knuckles against the doorframe follows, patient and polite. Damion and Viri glance at each other and smile.

"Dinner," Viri says, quietly amused. Damion exhales and rises slowly from his chair, but not before letting his fingers brush across the worn cards one last time. Maybe the world really is that wide.

Still half-lost in the hazy warmth of game cards and stories of wind-swept ridges, Damion opens the door and greets a servant with a tray carrying their dinners. The servant enters quietly, placing the tray on the desk with a smile and a nod before withdrawing. The click of the closing door settles the air again.

"No gelée cubes," Viri notes dryly as he removes the lids. He throws Damion a playful glance, "You're safe." Damion huffs a laugh and joins him at the table. They pull their chairs in and settle before bowls of kelp-broth soup, platters of wok-seared root vegetables, and a basket of cloud buns still warm from the steamer.

They eat in companionable silence, the fire popping behind them and chopsticks soft against porcelain. After a time, Viri says, "Once you've healed, we should go." Damion blinks at him. "To that ridge I mentioned," Viri adds, "near the sea in Thunder Sanctum. The one that tries to carry you if you time the wind right."

Damion smiles faintly, remembering the way Viri described it, all golden light and sky. "It sounds like a dream," Damion says quietly.

"It is," Viri replies, "But that doesn't mean it can't be real."

Damion lowers his gaze to his plate, then further, to the hands resting in his lap. He doesn't speak for a long moment. The fire crackles behind him. "I used to think dreams had to be earned," he says finally, voice low, "That dreams were rewards. Trophies. Something you deserved only if you were the strongest one standing." He pauses, fingers curling slightly. "I didn't know it was possible to just... want something. Without earning it. Without fighting for it. Just because it made you feel alive."

Viri is still beside him, listening but not pressing. Damion's voice softens further, "There was a moment when Mulsae first toured me around the Emberan Hearthholds as his war trophy. At Kindlepoint, I walked through the center of the Hearthhold. My arms were bound behind me. I was paraded as an example. And the soldiers there weren't strangers. They were Emberai I'd trained. Led."

He lifts his eyes but focuses on nothing in particular. "They spit on me. Called me a bitch. Said I should throw myself from the cliffs. And the worst part is... I didn't even hate them for it. I'd trained them to think that way. I'd told them, over and over, that a man with no pride should end himself."

He pushes a piece of vegetable through a line of sauce on his plate. "In Scaldmere, dignity is everything. It's how you know you exist. It's how you're allowed to belong. And I lost my dignity. Publicly. Repeatedly. I didn't even have a collar. I just obeyed, no visible chains, and everyone knew I was broken."

He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, his voice is steadier. "But the world didn't stop. I didn't die. I didn't vanish into nothing." He looks at Viri now. "And somewhere in the middle of all that shame, I started to realize... maybe dignity's not what I thought it was. Maybe it was never about being strong or being right. Maybe it was just performance. A costume I wore so no one would ask what was underneath."

He shifts in his chair, and the light from the fire throws a faint glow across his features. "I was terrified to lose any shred of dignity. But now that it's almost entirely gone... I can breathe. Like I'm not living someone else's script. Like I'm finally starting to ask what I want, ask what actually matters to me. Not what earns respect. Not what makes people shut up when I walk in a room. Just... what makes me feel like myself."

He lets out a slow breath, "I don't know what that looks like yet. But I know it's not Scaldmere's idea of honor."

Viri finishes the last of his meal, then sits back with his hands resting lightly in his lap. He doesn't speak for a moment, just watches the last curl of steam rise from his plate. "Dignity was everything in my family, too," he says at last, voice quiet but clear. "The way you carried yourself. The way others perceived you. That was the measure of your worth."

He glances at Damion, his expression unreadable for a beat. "I spent a long time trying to live up to it. I was good at it, actually. Good posture. Perfect words. Always knowing what to say and what not to say. That kind of training starts early in noble houses, especially in Sylvaran families. We weren't powerful in the way the Sky-Touched are, so we made ourselves untouchable through pride. Through polish."

He lifts one hand, examining his own fingers, then lets it drop back to his lap. "And then I realized I had no idea how to want something out loud. Not anything real. Not anything true." A soft breath escapes him, almost a laugh. "I was terrified of being seen. Not just for being... attracted to men, but for how that desire made me feel. Soft. Vulnerable. Messy. All things that weren't dignified. All things I'd learned to be ashamed of."

He pauses, then meets Damion's eyes, "I didn't have a breaking point, not like you. But I did have a choice. I could keep polishing the version of myself my family wanted to display, or I could leave and figure out who I actually was."

He offers a small, wry smile, "I left. Not because I was exiled. But because I finally understood that hiding myself was a kind of exile, too." He folds his arms loosely across his chest, tone gentle now, "So I let the idea of dignity go. And in its place, I found freedom. Not all at once. But piece by piece."

He looks down briefly, as if the next part is harder to say, but when he lifts his head again there's warmth behind his eyes. "And the more I lived as myself, the more I seemed to draw people who did the same. My friends now... they're not perfect, but they love me for who I am, not for how well I perform. They became my real family. The kind where I don't have to earn a seat at the table. I just sit down and I'm home."

His voice softens, "I like who I am now. I don't miss who I had to be to make others comfortable."

Damion leans back slightly, watching the firelight dance across Viri's face, "So you left the life you were raised to live... and ended up with something better?"

Viri's smile grows quiet and steady, "It took time. Letting go of who I thought I was supposed to be wasn't easy. But once I did, I started to find the version of me that could actually breathe."

Damion nods slowly, his expression distant, "I always thought dignity was what kept me strong. What gave me worth."

Viri's gaze is unwavering, "I used to think the same. But dignity... it can be a cage. One built from other people's expectations."

Damion exhales through his nose. "And I've spent the past few years losing mine. It felt like dying."

"Maybe," Viri says softly, "it was becoming."

Damion looks down at his food, then nudges something on his plate, "You sound like someone who came out the other side."

"I did," Viri says, "I laugh more. I rest better. I don't flinch at my own reflection anymore."

Damion looks at him for a long moment, "I want that. I don't know if I believe I'll ever get there, but... gods, I want it."

"You will," Viri says with quiet certainty, "Not all at once. But little by little."

A silence settles, comfortable and thoughtful. Damion takes another bite, then tilts his head and smirks faintly, "Okay, but be honest. That gelée cube was not sacred. You made up the harp-playing spirits."

Viri gasps in mock offense, "I would never fabricate such important cultural knowledge."

"Oh please," Damion laughs, "Next you'll be telling me the cubes are hand-sung lullabies by moonlit naiads."

"They are," Viri insists, deadpan, "But only the lavender ones."

Damion snorts, nearly choking on his bite, "You're dangerous."

Viri lifts his glass with a serene smile, "Only to the humorless."

Damion gives a soft laugh and shakes his head, the warmth in his chest settling deeper. They fall quiet again, this time with no urgency to fill the space.

After clearing away their empty dinner plates, Viri reaches for a second box tucked neatly beside the books. "Let's try this game. It's different," Viri says, his voice soft but warm. "We're not playing against each other this time. We're on the same side."

Damion gives a slow nod, curious. Viri opens the box and lays out a small board made of square tiles, each one etched with names of distant lands Damion has never heard of, like Whispering Marsh, Temple of Flame, Drowning Steps. Viri explains just enough to get them started, apparently the tiled board is a sinking island they're trying to save, then he lets the game teach the rest.

There's no rush to their movements. No gloating. No one trying to win. It's all shared glances and thoughtful silences, occasional murmurs, "If you move there, I can cover the next tile," or "I think we can hold this if we time it right." The kind of talk that doesn't fill the room, but weaves it together.

Time slips quietly past. The fire in the brazier burns low, its glow flickering across the edges of the desk. Damion's back begins to ache faintly from leaning forward, and the world outside the game feels distant, softened by candlelight and quiet company.

In the final moments, with just a few pieces left to claim, the board nearly collapses beneath them. But they pull through, just barely. When the last piece is secured and the island stabilizes, they both lean back at the same time, releasing the same long breath.

They glance at each other, and Damion gives a tired, contented smile. Not a single word is needed. They have won. Together.

"That's a fun game," Damion says. "I liked that we could strategize together in a team."

Viri nods knowingly, "I find games are more fun when there is teamwork. Let's play it again tomorrow." He brings his hands down to his knees with a faint slap, "Speaking of tomorrow, is there anything in particular you want to do?"

Damion gives it honest thought, "No, nothing in particular. Doctors say I need one more day of rest, so it looks like I'm stuck in the room all day again."

"How does more reading and games sound?"

"I'd like that," Damion smiles, feeling confident things will be good tomorrow.

"Shall I come for breakfast again?"

Damion rubs the back of his neck bashfully, "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I feel bad you came here for breakfast and I didn't wake up until long after lunch. I don't want to put you through that again."

"I didn't mind at all," Viri's face and tone seem to indicate he's being honest.

"It's hard for me not to feel bad inconveniencing you."

"The issue we were trying to address is you feeling distressed being alone." Damion nods solemnly. "So how about this, how about you spend a bit of time alone before going to bed tonight and send me a message on the parchment telling me how it goes for you."

"If tonight goes well," Viri continues, "then you can message me tomorrow to let me know when you're awake. If tonight doesn't go well, I'll come tomorrow before breakfast. Does that sound reasonable?"

Viri looks so open. Like either option is honestly alright for him. Damion gives a half smile. "That can work," he decides, "I really appreciate you trying to work with my issues..." he presses a finger to slide aimlessly across the table, "... it's so silly that I am getting upset being alone."

Viri puts his hand on Damion's, "It's not silly. I get it."

Damion looks at him in disbelief, "You do?"

Viri smiles warmly, earnestly, "I do."

Damion looks down and picks at the fabric of his robe bashfully. Viri gives him a moment to process before speaking again. "I'm thinking our day is drawing to an end. Is there anything else you'd like before I get going?"

Damion thinks through how he's feeling. What he's wanting. It's a foreign thought process to him. But he thinks he feels... fine. And he thinks he wants... a bath. "No, I don't think there is anything I want, except itching to get into the bath."

Viri smiles his famous radiant smile, "That's a good sign that you want to take care of yourself."

"Really?" honestly confused.

"Really. Hopefully you have a soothing bath and a restful sleep tonight," Viri stands up to indicate it's time for him to leave. Damion stands as well and they walk to the door. Viri opens it and Damion has his hand on the doorknob to close it.

"Message me tonight, right before bed, and tell me how you feel," Viri reminds him.

"I'll message you tonight," he confirms.

"Good. See you tomorrow, Damion."

Damion tentatively raises a hand in a sign of departure, "Bye... Viri. See you tomorrow." Viri gives him a last smile and disappears down the hallway. Damion slowly closes the door and it whispers a snick as it shuts.

Damion stands still, staring at the chair where Viri had been. The room feels bigger now. Not emptier exactly, just... quieter. Like something has been turned down. He rubs his chest once, absently, then makes his way into the bathing chamber.

He takes off his robe and hangs it, then pulls the cloth diaper off and tosses it into the sink. The sight of it has been bringing a jolt of shame, but tonight it is softened by something else: an odd flicker of hope. He turns on the water, works the soap into the fabric, and starts scrubbing.

I asked for help, and Viri didn't flinch. The memory of those quiet, steady eyes has stuck with him. Viri didn't look at him like he was broken. He didn't pity him. And now, Damion has the faintest feeling he might actually get that anal plug back. That maybe this strange patchwork life he is building doesn't have to be shaped entirely by loss.

Hope. It is a foreign taste in his mouth. Strange, but not unwelcome.

He wrings out the cloth and hangs it to dry. The tub has filled. He slides in with a slow groan, and the heat soaks deep into his muscles. He tilts his head back. Steam curls against his face.

What a day. He lets himself feel the warmth seep through his body to his very bones. It reaches places inside him that had been cold a long time.

He thinks of the way Viri had described that ridge. The wind, the cliffs, the way one could just glide. He'd never dreamed about going anywhere before. His whole life had been duty, war, image. But now, for the first time, the idea of traveling, to go somewhere just to be, has lit something inside him. He can see it in his mind's eye: him and Viri on that ridge, wings wide, the world falling away beneath them. No audience. No performance. Just flight.

He bathes slowly, like he has nowhere to be. He doesn't. When he finally steps out and dries off, he folds a fresh cloth and wraps it around himself with practiced hands. Still a damn diaper. Still ridiculous. But... less unbearable than it had been yesterday.

He sits at the table and pulls over the writing tools and the enchanted parchment connected to Viri. He writes to him.

I feel good. Calm.
Thank you, Viri. I think I
feel so content right now
because of the time you gave
me today. Thank you.
I'll write tomorrow as soon as
I wake up.
See you then.

He leaves everything on the table, then slides into bed and pulls the covers up to his chin. The fire has burned low, its glow soft on the walls. His body aches, but in a familiar, manageable way.

He stares up at the ceiling. I don't know who I am now. But I'm not who I was. That used to feel scary. Now it doesn't. If he isn't the Harbinger of the Flood anymore, if he doesn't need to fight for every scrap of dignity... then maybe he can be something else. Someone else.

Whoever he wants to be.

Damion turns onto his side, closes his eyes, and lets the dream of wind and sky carry him toward sleep.